]
WELLWYN. Isn't that the Professor's knock?
[While Ann sits down to make tea, he goes to the door and opens
it. There, dressed in an ulster, stands a thin, clean-shaved
man, with a little hollow sucked into either cheek, who, taking
off a grey squash hat, discloses a majestically bald forehead,
which completely dominates all that comes below it.]
WELLWYN. Come in, Professor! So awfully good of you! You know
Canon Bentley, I think?
CALWAY. Ah! How d'you do?
WELLWYN. Your opinion will be invaluable, Professor.
ANN. Tea, Professor Calway?
[They have assembled round the tea table.]
CALWAY. Thank you; no tea; milk.
WELLWYN. Rum?
[He pours rum into CALWAY's milk.]
CALWAY. A little-thanks! [Turning to ANN.] You were going to show
me some one you're trying to rescue, or something, I think.
ANN. Oh! Yes. He'll be here directly--simply perfect rotter.
CALWAY. [Smiling.] Really! Ah! I think you said he was a
congenital?
WELLWYN. [With great interest.] What!
ANN. [Low.] Daddy! [To CALWAY.] Yes; I--I think that's what you
call him.
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